Zipper Fall
by ichibanseiken
Summary: Ichigo misuses his considerable rock climbing skills to break into people's homes just for the thrill of it. He breaks into Grimmjow's apartment. With Ichigo's adrenaline addiction and Grimmjow's infamous bad temper, their road to a harmonious relationship is rocky indeed!
1. Chapter 1

"_**Zipper Fall" is a rock climbing term, which describes a situation where safeguards fail one by one. The climber keeps falling faster and faster as the pitons are ripped out of the rock face. Ichigo puts himself into a similar situation with Grimmjow. **_

"Jeagerjacques is a fucking asshole." Renji threw half of his beer back without bothering to swallow.

"He's a fucking asshole. Of all the bosses I've ever had, he's the rudest, nastiest, loudest sonovabitch I've ever fucking worked for. And take this: he wants everything yesterday."

I watched Renji belch, his large hands diving into the bowl of complimentary nuts and pretzels. His face was flushed, his scowl accentuated by the tribal tattoos above his eyebrows and his long, crimson hair threatened to escape its ponytail.

"Sorry, man," I said, waving for another round. "At least you get to do cool stuff, though. You work with major accounts. Your work matters a bit more than just putting advertisements together."

I sighed. Nobody gave a damn about advertising unless a video went viral on YouTube. The product of my hard work became trash as soon as it was removed from the mailbox; billboards got tuned out, flashy magazine ads were cut up for children's project. My job was worse than watching moss grow.

Maybe that's why I enjoyed breaking into people's houses so much.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want you to think I'm just some ordinary thief. I have a strict code of conduct and I adhere to it on every job:

Never take sentimental items.

Steal only from the rich.

Don't get caught.

I guess the last rule would be the most important one, and I'm pretty darn good at what I do since I've been burgling for almost ten years. It all started in high school with a panty-raid challenge, at which time I found there is no better way to get that awesome, adrenaline high than casing a place of residence, finding when it will be empty, and finding an illicit way of entry. Sometimes, I just need to pick the lock to the front door. In other cases, more inventive means of breaching the fortress are necessary.

Oh yeah. Another rule: No cat-burglar stuff. Cat-burglars are people who break into homes while people are there, preferably asleep. That's not only creepy, it's dangerous. It's a good way to get your chest ventilated with someone's pistol they inherited from their grandfather and still keep around for sentimental reasons.

"…so he'll be out of the office next week, yey!" Renji squinted at me. "Hey Ichigo. Are you listenin'? The Jeager-asshole's going on a vacation for a week so he'll be off my back."

Vacation.

A successful stockbroker's going on a vacation.

Hmmm…

I knew I shouldn't have even formulated the thought, but there it was: suddenly I was possessed with an overwhelming urge to break into Mr. Jeager-asshole's chateau. Of course, that broke another rule: don't steal from people you might know, even if only through other people.

"Maybe he's just grumpy from his commute," my mouth said, seemingly detached from my body.

"Nah," Renji said, "he walks to work. He lives right on the corner of 57th and Espada Way. I had to deliver some work papers one day when he made me stay late, that jerk."

Now, I know better than pursuing this train of thought, but I have this curious fascination with knowing how other people work. Nothing gives me more insight into a person than having a chance to walk through their private areas, breathing the air their breathed and rifle through their personal possessions. Just looking through his drawers I'd be able to tell why Mr. Jeager-asshole's the way he is. His taste in books and clothing is, most certainly, very different in private than in public, and I get that extra frisson from finding out the difference between my victim's private self and the public persona they put on for our benefit.

No, I should stop.

Stop now. Go back. Take a trip out of town.

"What's his place like?" My mouth asked Renji while I sat in my body, aghast, along for the ride.

XDXDXD

I've kept an eye on the third-floor apartment over the weekend and was gratified to see the tall, blue-haired owner walk out the front door with a small suitcase. Right about the time my stomach began to rumble for lunch, he got into a taxi and left.

When somebody gets into a taxi with a suitcase, it generally means they'll be gone for awhile, but relying on this truism is unwise. It is always prudent to call before breaking in. And, once you approach the residence, it's imperative to ring the doorbell. This prevents the burglar's contact with dogs, house-sitters, spouses, and the local police department.

XDXDXD

The late-nineteenth century apartment building was lush with all the neo-classical embellishments you'd expect: it was five stories high, wide parapets connected the windows, and the façade was covered with a Art Nouveau floral design. The front door was flanked by Grecian columns to indicate the importance of its residents. Looking from across the street, I could already see the ceilings would be tall. That could have been both good and bad – it meant a longer rappel off the roof and a possible lack of an elevator. It could have also meant the residents were flush with cash and a variety of easy-to-fence, small objects they would never realize they were missing.

That afternoon, I called the number for Mr. Jeager-asshole' residence. Nobody picked up. If you want to break into a place, your best bet is to do it during daylight and while wearing a service uniform. People will remember the uniform, not your face. Looking like a computer repairman with a messenger bag full of tools gave credence to my disguise. I'd just walk up the door and knock. If anybody opened, I'd just pretend I got out on the wrong floor.

XDXDXD

My bright orange hair was tamed by a microfiber scull cap. The repairman hat I wore over it had a half-wig with a dark-brown braid attached to the back. My white, blue-striped shirt had an embroidered name tag.

"Bill's Service."

I wore navy chinos and black, crepe-soled shoes for quiet approach and a fast getaway.

The building's doorman sat behind a chest-high, marble desk, trying to follow a ball game on a portable television.

I sauntered in, looking tired. Three in the afternoon, Saturday, and I was stuck working.

"Hey. What's the score?"

The tall, one-eyed man spared me a glance. "Three-two, bottom of the sixth, bases loaded."

"Oh man," I said, letting out an exasperated moan. "I couda been at that game. Had to give the tickets away."

"No shit?" The doorman, "Mr. Jigura", turned toward me some.

"Yeah. Then a client called. Wants to have a virus removed off his system and new RAM installed. Can't get a thing done now. Poor jackass." I blew out some hot air.

"Sucks working Saturdays, but man's gotta do what man's gotta do."

"Yeah." Jigura's eyes flicked back toward the game. "Strikeout! Shit!"

"Wow, shit man. That coulda been sweet. Three more innings, though."

Jigura glanced my way. "They shouldn't have benched Gonzalez. Here, you sign in here. Where're you goin'?"

I signed my fake name and time of entry.

"Mr. Jeagerjacques. Third floor."

"He's gone."

"Yeah. He told me in no uncertain terms he wants they system running like a Swiss watch by the time he's back, too. Loud bastard. He gave me a key."

"He sure is a loud bastard," Jigura nodded with a sneer, his eyes on the game again. I peeled off the counter and headed toward the elevator. Nobody attempted to stop me.

XDXDXD

His door had a regular lock and two dead-bolts, which told me he knew a bit about not putting all his eggs in one basket. I knocked on the door and ran the doorbell, mostly for the benefit of his neighbors. Nobody opened the door to see who's in the hallway. I snapped on my latex gloves and reached for the picks in the bottom of my tool bag. The regular lock was butter-soft and turned almost on command. The deadbolts took a bit more convincing. Then there was that tendril of thrill running up my spine as I felt the tumblers turn and align, the mechanism yielding to my desires.

XDXDXD

As soon as I was in I locked the door again so nobody would disturb me. Then I did a quick walk-through. The apartment had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a huge dining room and a living room separated into what , at first glance, seemed to be a junk yard and a sleek, modern den with a flat-screen TV.

I've said before that I can judge the character of a person by the way they keep their dwelling and belongings. Looking around, I'd have guessed that Mr. Jeaguer-asshole suffered from split personality disorder. His kitchen was immaculate; nothing rotted in the refrigerator and the freezer contained not only five gourmet frozen dinners, but also the fairly common stash of cash. Lots of people hid their emergency cash in the back of their freezer, thinking it was so clever and original.

_Frozen assets: about five grand._

Not much for a successful stockbroker. I palmed the icy Ziploc bag and slipped it into my pocket.

One of the bedrooms was right over the 57th Street. The dark, elegant furniture was complemented by several Tokugawa-era Japanese prints. The nightstands, the bureau, all clean. His personal effects must have been minimal. How surprising, then, that the second bedroom – the one with the window into the alley and the fire escape – was so cluttered you couldn't walk through it. My heart sank. I had high hopes to make good use of the fire escape on my next trip in. My hopes were dashed – trying to make my way in the dark, I would have sounded like two raccoons fighting inside a garbage can.

The bathrooms were both clean.

The dining room had every single surface covered with collectible objects of various sizes. There were half-opened card boxes on the floor.

Where did this seemingly neat and tidy individual amass such a wealth of knick-knacks? I walked through, not spending much time. Few items caught my attention. There were four silver candy dishes, from England circa 1820, and since their design and quality varied, I picked the one in the middle; the nicest one would have been the first to be missed. I found a pretty carving of a panther, ivory, inset with turquoise eyes but the way it was displayed told me its absence would be noted, so I left it there.

Thirty minutes have passed and I knew I had to get out. Computer maintenance wasn't all that complicated these days. I looked around, frantic. One more thing…just one more little thing.

My eyes fell on a mid-size painting. The subject matter was neo-classical, but the quality…awful. Was that good frame being wasted on a cheap print with a paint-like acrylic layer on top? Mr. Jeagerjacques might have been an asshole, but he was a man of taste in art, so why would he display such fake trash in such a prominent location?

The frame seemed a tad thick. I jostled it a bit. It swung to the side on a column of piano hinges, revealing a small wall safe.

_BINGO!_

Safe-cracking was something of a hobby of mine and my fingers itched with desire to turn the two dials and make the mechanism sing for me. Time, however, was not on my side. I closed the painting shut . There would have to be another visit.

XDXDXD

Two days passed. Monday at work paled in comparison with my weekend's adventure and I was thrilled to get out of the office. My venture had earned five thousand, three hundred and eighty dollars, mostly in hundreds, some in twenties. The antique, silver candy dish sat on my table where I could admire its fine workmanship .

As I sat there, sipping my tea and eating caramels out of my newly-acquired and soon-to-be-fenced silver candy dish, I thought back to the apartment. I could never get in the same way again. And, next time, it would have to be a night job. The summer was hot and it wasn't unusual for people to leave their windows open; I had eased the locks on the casement window frames in the bedroom so I could push my way in later tonight.

XDXDXD

Once eleven o'clock rolled by, I pulled on my light green jacket and a baseball cap, hoisted my black backpack, and headed out the door. I walked, using the twenty minutes to calm down and control my adrenaline levels. I still could have backed out – I didn't have to go through with it. The idea died young: it was like paying the entry fee to a public pool and then talking myself out of getting into the water. There was no way I wasn't getting inside that apartment tonight.

Two blocks away I ducked inside an entryway and stuffed my green jacket and baseball cap inside the bag. I caught my hair in my black scull cap, using experienced fingers to hide every single strand. I lifted the black hood of my sweatshirt over my head and continued to my target area.

The windows in the corner of the third floor were dark. I dialed the number on my cell phone anyway, but nobody picked up. I sucked in a deep breath. Shit. I was really going in.

The service entrance in the alley wasn't armed and the lock was easy to pick. No point arming a self-closing door next to the dumpster, right? I slipped in like a shadow and took the service elevator all the way up. There was a narrow staircase from the fifth floor to the roof, and I took it. I knew what to expect. The door was unlocked and it creaked only a little – a pleasant surprise. I scanned the flat, asphalt roof and the vents and chimneys to my left. The edge of the roof was to my right. Working fast, I slipped a climbing harness over my black cargo fatigues. Putting my phone on vibrate, I slipped it into a secure pocket. The other pocket held the flashlight. I pulled a coil of heavy rope out of the backpack and fastened it to a sturdy chimney. Before I knew it, my feet were anchored on the rim of the ledge and, with the rope wound behind my butt and through the double-safe climbing carbine of my harness, I leaned back over the abyss. I felt the thrill of being suspended over a street, in the dark, unseen. Slowly, my soft, black shoes took small steps down the side of the building as I fed extra rope through my harness. The soles of my feet felt every contour of the stone-carved vining plants and flowers, giving me extra purchase. I traversed past the lit fifth floor window, and past the dark fourth floor window, and I started to breathe a bit harder when, finally, the third-floor window appeared. I stood on the generous window parapet, unclipping myself and letting the rope hang by my side. Slowly, I pushed the glass panes in.

Only the streetlights illuminated the Spartan bedroom interior. The white carpet gleamed a pale amber, reflecting the sodium lamps outside. The bed was occupied. Its owner was in it, sprawled naked on his back. His head and shoulders were shrouded by the shadows, but the rest of him was illuminated by the stark city glow, barely impeded by the sheer curtains.

He stirred. I looked around fast – his closet was cracked open. I slipped in, not making a noise. Inhaling short, shallow breaths, my heart beat like a drum against the wall of my chest. I heard Grimmjow Jeagerjacques stir. His bed creaked, then it creaked some more and I head the soft patter of feet on the lush carpet.

I hoped he wasn't going to kill me on sight.

I swore to myself I'd never do this again.

I heard him piss in the bathroom next to me, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe I don't have to voice any rash oaths just yet.

He flushed and washed his hands.

More footsteps, this time in my direction. Once again I began to negotiate with the Powers-That-Be.

"Fuck, it's hot." The low growl of his voice shot an arrow of heat down my spine.

I heard him draw the curtains aside, opening the window even wider.

My heart sang in relief.

Then I heard him get back in bed. So far, so good. I'd have to wait until he was all asleep before I could make my exit out the window he opened so considerately. I had hoped to use the front door on the way out, but with the owner in residence, I didn't dare making so much noise. I stood there, waiting, wondering why the hell he wasn't on a vacation like he should have been.

Light snoring reached my ears and I pushed the closet door to the side a little, just enough to get out comfortably. With painful slowness I peeked around the wooden panel.

There he was, now fully lit by the dramatic glow from the outside, his legs spread apart, sporting a significant boner.

My mouth went dry. Light pollution was my enemy under ordinary circumstances, but right now I felt grateful for the ubiquitous, eerie glow. This guy, no matter what Renji had to say about his personality, had the goods. Neon lights, flashing from outside, reflected off the smooth planes of his legs as he twitched, giving a slight moan.

_Sleep, dammit_.

His powerful thighs tensed and his hand crept to his groin, long fingers stroking his stiff shaft. I heard him gasp and I knew he wasn't even close to being in the dream world. Blood rushed to my dick and I bit my lower lip, working hard to control my breathing. Damn but was he ever so beautiful. He was a gorgeous specimen of a man and I'd have done a lot to go out there and join the party – except I wasn't keen on him introducing me to the local police department.

Slowly, my hand crept down, past my raging hard-on and inside the cargo pocket of my pants. I flipped my phone open and turned the camera on. There was just enough light for the screen to show what was going on in the pool of light before me. Trying hard not to touch myself, I kept my phone trained on the bed.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice nagged, reminding me of my solid upbringing. Surely taking a video of someone in such a delicate moment was beyond the pale – I had no words for it and no justification. Yet was a thief, and I'd never have this man - no chance of that. I could keep this little personal memento, though. An insignificant souvenir to be played a few times and then erased. I just couldn't stop watching, my breath coming out in short, shallow pants.

Grimmjow Jeagerjacques slid a neck roll under his hips. He reached for something on the bedside table and I heard a familiar click of a lube bottle. When he touched his dick again, I heard his hiss of pleasure. I watched his hips undulate, the thrusts small and intense, the proud and turgid length sliding through his slick hand. He spread his feet apart and his second hand reached down, finding his ass. He slipped a finger in, his hips spasming in reaction. Another finger…he gasped, panting and cursing, his two fingers embedded and pulling at his opening, his slick hand pumping his manhood. I hoped he'd come soon. My phone had only so much memory left…YESSSSS.

His voice was a growl and a moan and it resonated as he shot his wad, thick ropes of jizz briefly luminescent in the neon lights outside. Few deep breaths later he sat up on the bed, still playing with his dick, his eyes closed and his mouth pulled back in a languorous smile. He was beautiful and relaxed and all I wanted was toss the phone I forgot I held and go to him and lick the cum off his chest and kiss him until he forgot his own mother's name.

_Oh god, how I wanted that man. _

I watched him walk across to the bathroom again and heard the water run. I saw him climb back between the sheets, hugging a pillow, this time falling asleep for good. The scent of his cologne, barely discernible before, developed with his increased body heat, mingling with the musky smell of sex. I stood in his closet, his suits brushing against my back, emanating that very same essence and it was all I could do not to roll my eyes back in my head, lean back into all that luxurious fabric and pass out.

It was at least an hour before I could trust myself to move out the window and climb to the safety of the roof.

XDXDXD

My harness in the backpack and the rope coiled next to it, I flopped behind the chimney in exhaustion. Going up is a lot harder even if you aren't fighting a hard-on the size of Texas. Wiping my face, I hid my climbing gear in a cooling vent for next time.

_Next time?_

Then I sprawled on the asphalt roof and unzipped my pants. It would only take a few minutes - then I could go home.

_**This story is now available in a book form with original characters. Search under "Zipper Fall" and "Kate Pavelle", and you will find links where you can purchase it in either e-book or paper format. It's coming out tomorrow, September 20**__**th**__**! **_

_**I will be online for a book release party on Sunday afternoon, Sept. 22**__**nd**__**, answering questions, posting excerpts, and making book give-aways on the following site: (/) blog. Drop by and visit!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Greetings again! I am wrapping up the online launch party at "Zipper Fall" and it was a lot of fun chatting with people from all over!**_

_**GrimmIchi fans, I have a discount to pass on to you: 25% off on all my titles, and all mystery/suspense titles at Dreamspinner Press. The code is "PavelleBlog" and the offer is good until Monday at midnight. Enjoy!**_

_**And now, let's forge ahead to Chapter 2 **___

It became apparent to me almost immediately – after I've wanked off to my illicit video of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques for the third or fourth time, anyway – that Cupid had played a rather vicious prank on me. I was infatuated, smitten, madly in love. As far as I could recall I've never fallen so fast for anyone, nor so hard. This time I didn't even know of the guy's redeeming qualities. I knew his name, home address, house keeping habits, occupation, and I had it on a good authority that he was an utter asshole.

Still…

Here it was, the short video so hot, it threatened to turn my cellphone into a puddle of molten plastic and twisted wires. The video I took of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques in the middle of the night and without his knowledge. I leaned back in my office chair and closed my eyes. The sensuous brushes of his expensive suits against my back were embedded in my neurophysiological pathways. The intoxicating scent of his light, elegant cologne mingling with the musky scent of sex lingered in the back of my mind. The body endowed with the strength and poise of Discobolos – a Grecian ideal, lean-limbed and muscled, his eyes sultry in repose. And, oh god, that voice. I no longer needed to play the recording – my sick and twisted mind rewound it to the very beginning and my memory recreated every hiss and gasp, every pant – and the sound of him finishing. That particular roar was so expressive and intimate and primal, I wanted to hear it over and over; hell, I even considered making it my ringtone.

Renji was happy that "Jeager-asshole" was gone, but I couldn't think of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques by that nickname anymore. He was too beautiful, too enticing, too tempting. And, let's face the fact that Renji was hardly a stellar employee: working with him must have been one hell of a ride. Come to thing of it, putting those two in the same room was asking for nothing short of a massive personality clash.

My eyes half shut and cheeks flushed, I visualized the man get out of his bed and walk around, just the way I've seen him from my hiding-place in his closet: stark naked and gorgeous, illuminated by the flashing neon signs and sodium street lamps from the levels beneath. I imagined him walk off to the kitchen, reaching for a glass, slipping it under the ice dispenser and getting some ice water in the middle of the night.

_Ice._

_Frozen assets._

I imagined him open the freezer and reach into the left corner in the back. Nothing was there. Over five grand has disappeared overnight.

_Confusion. _

_Anger._

How would he look when he was angry, I wondered? Suddenly I didn't want him to feel angry, violated, sad…

_Guilt._

Shit. I've never felt guilty before – that's why I always selected my donors with such careful precision. Except this one wasn't selected so carefully. With this one I've broken a slew of my own rules: the guy was personally known by a friend, the house wasn't cased well enough, I returned the second time, I entered even though he turned out to be home, I allowed it to become personal. Guilt was a new and unwelcome feeling, my own bad consequence.

"Mr. Kurosaki." Kuchiki Byakuya stuck his head through the door.

My eyes popped open and I sat up ramrod straight.

"Yes, boss."

"Are you feeling well, ?" Kuchiki's pale face frowned the slightest bit, showing a hint of concern. His gorgeous, raven hair was bound in a professional ponytail today, a sure sign that a client meeting was somewhere on his schedule.

"W…why do you think I'm not well, boss?"

He drifted in like silent fog. "Your face is red. Your expression – are you in pain? I have that new client for you for tomorrow, but I can reassign it to Yamada, if you're coming down with something. It wouldn't do to infect the whole office."

I stood. "Thank you. Just something I ate. I'll be right back." I headed for the bathroom. The hallway carpet would soon show a well-worn path between my office door and the facilities if something didn't happen soon. A quick peek under the doors of the other stalls confirmed that I was alone. I locked myself in the handicapped stall and dropped my trousers and boxer shorts, the cold, tiled wall soothing against my back. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket. And there he was; the sound turned so low, only I could hear.

My right hand mirrored his, stroke for stroke.

I won't go into further details here; suffice it to say that I was back in my office within ten minutes; my face cooling off and my hair slicked back to disguise the moisture that clung to it.

I felt somewhat more functional as I reached for the thick manila folder left by Byakuya Kuchiki. A new account, hmm. And I was to meet their vice president tomorrow. From the look of it, the Black, White and Blue LLC was a fairly small but successful personal investment outfit and further growth and expansion was part of their strategic plan – thus their need for an advertising campaign. The names of the partners were a bit unusual, but hey – whatever. As long as they liked my presentation. I was to meet Mr. Shiffer tomorrow. A thorough analysis of Black, White, and Blue's current customer base revealed new, logical places for strategic expansion. It didn't take much to alter a boiler-plate proposal to fit my new client's needs and email it to Kuchiki for approval. After lunch, his approval was granted and I quickly morphed the document into a PowerPoint presentation.

Then I kicked back, feet on my desk and laptop on my thighs. To all outside observers, I was busy at work. If only they knew. As it happened, I had more than one project to plan.

**XDXDXD**

The awful, gnawing feeling of guilt wouldn't let go of me no matter what I tried. I worked hard. I focused. I put my cell phone away, having copied the illicit, hot video onto a separate flash drive. I used the image of the angelic, slightly smiling face in post-coital bliss as my wallpaper.

_Not safe. Definitely not safe._

Then I sat there, dressing myself down for being paranoid. What could possibly happen, right? It's just a pretty face. It's poorly illuminated, light and shadow playing with ambient light off the street, making the image appear almost monochromatic.

Oh what the fuck. May as well go full-out. I captured the end of the video sound track on my phone and played with it a little bit. Then I used my office phone to call myself.

"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"

My cell phone just had an orgasm. If lots of people called me, I'd have one, too. Hands-free.

**XDXDXD**

On a more serious note, I really had to return all those items I stole – having become intimate with their owner in a virtual, round-about sort of way it no longer seemed acceptable for me to keep them. Now, I was known to occasionally return an item, but knowing the guy was in town made it slightly tricksy. First I called Renji, who naturally couldn't pick up, so I left a message.

I worked for maybe ten minutes, getting really immersed in my presentation for Mr. Schiffer of Black, White and Blue, LLC, when my phone roared.

"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"

I jolted. The sound hasn't lost its original effect on me. Beating my woodie down, I picked up.

"Hey, Renji!"

"Hey, man." A pause. "Hey, you alright?"

Everyone was suddenly interested in my well-being.

"Yeah, why?"

"You sound a bit off, is all. What didya want? I'm finally catching up on all my work, now that Jaeger-asshole isn't breathing down my neck."

"Just checking up on ya. So, he's still out, is he?"

"Yep. Wanna pick up a drink after work?"

"Sure," I said, my response utterly automatic. We'd meet at the same place at the same time and have the same drinks and the same bar food…wait wait WAIT!

I couldn't get drunk if I wanted to infiltrate Grimmjow Jeagerjacques' apartment and get away with it. And I had to do it because, face it, the guy was hot and I felt like we had a connection of sorts, and I felt bad about what I'd done.

Real bad.

**XDXDXD**

Renji was on his fourth beer; I was nursing my second.

"Ichigo. Something isn't right with you. You're not keeping up."

"I'm fine," I lied. In reality, I was scared shitless. Suppose the gorgeous guy was there again, and suppose I didn't have it in me to leave? Suppose…

"Ichigo, you're doing it again. Helloooo!" A large hand waved before my eyes, jagged tattoos extending almost to the wrist.

I made an effort to pull myself together.

"So Renji, has it occurred to you that you and your boss are just clashing on personality? You could both be nice guys when you're apart, you know? Some people just aren't meant to work together."

"Shiiit, man. You're saying he's as cool as I am? What basis do you have for that conclusion?"

I had a basis. I just couldn't share it. My mind whirled as fast as a gerbil wheel. "But you're more effective with him on vacation, right?"

"You're saying I should find another job? I love my job. It's just Jeager-asshole who's the problem, man. You don't know him. He's capricious. Violent, even. His temper is legendary, and he always has to have his way."

Oh boy.

I really didn't need to hear that.

**XDXDXD**

I wore my black stuff and my repairman's hat with a wig and said hi to Jigura, who sat behind the desk, reading a book.

"Long time no see, Bill!"

"Yeah...whatcha readin'?"

"The Old Man and the Sea," he gruffed, embarrassed. "Some people live the life, the rest of us grunts just get to fantasize about it, you know?"

"You bet," I said, nodding. I didn't know. I was living the life right now.

"Back to Jeagerjacques?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." I signed the book and took the elevator to the fifth floor. I made it to the flat roof, enjoying the comfortable shadows of other, taller buildings surrounding me while I navigated among the chimneys. My harness and rope were still in the vent where I left them. I put Jeagerjacques' silver dish and cash from his freezer into the cargo pockets of my fatigues and descended down the wall. There was that old thrill of hanging over a precipice. The wind whipping up the wall caressed my exposed neck as my feet moved down the flowers and vines of the façade. Fifth floor, fourth floor, dark. Third floor, also dark. The temperature was still pleasantly high – I had seen the window open from underneath earlier that evening - my chances of getting in were very good.

I landed on the parapet with a light thud. The wind ripped around me again and I unclipped the line off my harness, bent over in a protective crouch. I needed to get in fast, before the weather took me along for a very short ride.

I pushed the half-open casement windows in and slid to the ground, crouching. The bed was unoccupied. I listened carefully; no signs of life. Like a cat, I stretched my limbs, progressing through the dark apartment. First, the silver candy dish. I pulled it out of my pocket, the sound of Velcro ripping through the silent evening. Damn…too loud. I pattered over to the dining room table. The table was empty. The boxes were gone from the floor. Order ruled once again. My eyes have adjusted already; I saw a glint reflect off the turquoise eyes of the little ivory panther.

_Damn. Now he would notice._

_No help for it, though._

Gently, silently the antique piece of silverwork descended onto the gleaming wood next to the panther when I heard the unmistakable sound of a semiautomatic pistol, its slide moving back, loading a round into the chamber.

"Stay where you are, punk." The silky, deep voice rumbled right behind me and I stilled in mid-motion, suppressing a quiver of excitement.

_He_ was here.

**XDXDXD**

"What the fuck are you doing here." The voice was rough suddenly, and as soon as I deposited the silver candy dish next to the panther, a large hand spun me around.

He reached to the wall, the gun still trained on me through the stark shadows cast by the walls and furniture. A light came on. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt and his feet were bare. As he moved back toward me I haven't heard a single footstep; he moved like a predatory cat.

His left fist landed a heavy blow on my cheek, the right still swallowing his gun; I flew into the table behind me.

"I asked you a question."

"Just putting some stuff back," I said, nonchalant, suppressing pain, not letting my hands fly to my face.

"You do that often?"

I couldn't keep my eyes off him; my gaze slid up I up and down his intimidating form. He exuded confidence. My presence wasn't a surprise to him.

"How did you know?"

"Shaddap. I'm asking the questions."

"For now," I quipped, right before the gun lashed forward, making rude and unwanted contact with my jaw.

I came to tied to a dining-room chair. My head felt a bit fuzzy and my jaw hurt and my other cheek hurt and the rope was digging into my wrists and ankles so, naturally, they hurt too. The object of my desire stood across the room from me, leaning against the doorway in a casual contraposto, his gun now stuck in his waistband.

"So, talk."

Now, I might have had the hots for this guy in the worst way possible, but I also have my pride and I wasn't going to let him onto that. First, he might beat me up rather badly; second, if he swung my way, I didn't want to look like I was begging for his divine attention. I straightened as much as my restraints allowed, flashing him not an admiring glance but a defiant scowl.

"What do ya wanna know, Jeager-asshole?"

He straightened some. "Only my employees call me that, punk."

"Your employees are right regarding your temperament. Although, I guess I deserved it this time."

He lifted his gorgeous, teal-blue eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

Now, if ever caught as a burglar, the best bet is to seem amateurish and bumbling and hope that the home owner will let you go. Just talk, talk, talk your way right out the door. Somehow I didn't think Jeargerjacques would have been impressed by a lot of jaw-flapping, though, so I returned his penetrating gaze with all I had.

"I broke my own rules on this job. I bungled it, and it made me feel bad, and I figured I'd return the stuff I took. I am…sorry." My voice grew quiet, and he remained silent, and there was just the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen nearby. I felt his eyes look me up and down with unveiled curiosity.

"I've never met a real burglar before." I felt him take in my soft climbing shoes and the black cargo pants, long-sleeve shirt and leather gloves, all back. I saw his hand reach for my head and tried to dodge it, forgetting that I was tied to one of his dining room chairs. I felt my hair spill down my neck as he plucked my black, microfiber scull cap.

"Hey! I need that!" The words flew out of my mouth unbidden. With my hair so orange and wild, anyone would recognize me. Without my scull cap, I was as good as arrested.

"So that's what you really look like," he growled. He took three steps back and fished his cellphone out of his pocket.

"Say 'cheese'!"

And dammit if I didn't grin my best, bruised-and-battered smile as he took my picture.

_Fuck._

"I found this in your pocket," he said, picking up a plastic bag full of cash.

"Yeah. You have to find a better place to hide that. At least get a fake dinner box or something."

"Shaddap." He pulled the money out and counted it. Not a dollar was missing.

"Any other clever security suggestion, Mr. Burglar?" He asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I paused, thoughtful. "Yeah, actually."

He looked at me in expectant silence.

"First talk to Mr. Jigura downstairs. He's easily distracted from screening visitors."

"I've already done that, punk. Who do ya think called me, letting me know you're finally on your way?"

Oh.

"Second, that safe of yours."

His eyes bugged out.

"Too obvious. Your taste in art is exquisite, yet you put such a piece of fake junk up there? In a prominent position? A family photo would've been better. At least that's genuine."

He took few quick steps to the wall and tugged on the frame of the painting, letting it swing open. He dialed the safe open, shielding his hand from my sight. Like I needed to know the combination, but he didn't need to know that. The heavy metal door opened and an automatic light came on inside. He peered at the contents.

"Nothing seems to be missing."

"Haven't tried it yet. Safe-cracking takes more time, y'know. Although this one looked about medium difficulty, at best. "

He spun at me, face darkened with rage.

"You impudent pup!"

His fist flew out, nailing me in the eye.

"Hey!" I yelled. "I would've returned it. I didn't have to come back, y'know. You don't have to hit a guy while he's tied to your chair, Jaeger-_asshole_!"

His face neared mine, his eyes fixed me with a hard, penetrating gaze. I returned his stare. His irises were impossibly blue. I can't even describe the color. I knew his hair was blue from before so that didn't bother me none, but his eyes…I felt my glare soften. The blue of his eyes was riveting; the color changeable from a deep cobalt blue to the palest sapphire, with tiny little sparks of silver in-between. I felt like I was drowning – I had to look away. My eyes fell down his straight nose, stopping at his thin, pink lips. They were pressed together in anger right now but I've seen them smile before and knew they could become generous and pliable given just the right incentive…I gulped.

"I see." His voice was a quiet husk.

Then he untied me.

"Get out and don't come back, punk. You're lucky I'm feeling too fucking depressed to do a number on yer pretty face."

I walked to the bedroom fast, giving the empty bed but a quick glance. I stuck my head out the window; the wind picked up and rain threatened.

"Mind if I use your front door?" I asked.

"Sure do. You made it down, I wanna see you make it up."

"You won't push me?"

"No, asshole," he growled, sending a jolt of heat to my groin. "I wanna see you climb."

I positioned myself on the ledge and caught the swaying rope. I clipped it to my harness like I was taught long ago and looked at the tall and gorgeous, who just stood there, watching my every move with visible fascination.

"Hey Grimmjow."

He jerked his head up, not expecting to hear his given name.

"I could offer to make amends. Buy you a drink, you know?"

He scowled. "Get outta my place."

I nodded. "Bye, then."

My rubber soles gripped the wet façade with enough friction and gloved hands felt the rope securely as I walked my way up. As I got above his window I paused, chancing a look down. There he was, leaning out and looking up, wondering what I'll do next. His eyes betrayed an excited gleam and his lips were stretched in a hint of a grin. He liked to watch me climb, I guess. Poor sod, his life was boring. All he needed was a bit of excitement. Like me.

**XDXDXD**

The alarm was kind of harsh the next day, blaring music right next to my ear. I slapped it and rolled out of bed. No sense delaying the inevitable. I showered and dressed in my crispest, monogrammed dress shirt, cuff links gleaming as they peeked from underneath my dark blue business suit. I decided against a red tie – the color was too loud for the way I felt after such a disaster of a night. My hands sifted through the collection of neckwear my sisters bestowed upon me over the years, finally selecting the blue one with an Escher fish pattern on it. The shade of blue reminded me of a pair of blue eyes I couldn't quite erase from my mind. He'd looked so intense – not at all mellow like after, you know…Dangerous, somehow. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"What happened to your face, Mr. Kurosaki?" Kuchiki looked me over. The bruised cheek and the black eye were on one side of my face, the scratched-and bruised gun-whip was just developing on the opposite side on my jaw.

"I fell off my bike," I said, my voice tinged with embarrassment. "I can be such a klutz!"

"You'll have to make your apologies to your client. Mr. Shiffer will be here in an hour. Are you prepared adequately?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I think we can do them a lot of good, Mr. Kuchiki. We can control the cost by targeting the campaign to their next strategic growth areas – it's just a matter of how far he'll want to take it."

Kuchiki gave me one of his calm, encouraging looks that passed for a smile.

"Very well then."

I was straightening my desk, getting the laptop ready to project on the small screen in my office and generally fussing before the new prospect arrived when I heard my cell phone have an orgasm in my pocket. I flushed at the memory of deep, blue eyes as I checked the caller ID.

"Hey Renji. I have ten minutes. What's up?" It must have been important – we called only right before lunch or end of work. Both of us had our hands full.

"That fucking asshole fired my ass, Ichi. And it's tied to you somehow."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"He came to work today, early from his vacation. He showed a picture of a guy around, asking if anyone knew him. So I said yes, and since I was the only one to recognize you, he fired me."

I felt my heart still. Never did I expect to drag Renji into my extracurricular obsession.

"Hey Ichigo. You alright, man? You looked a bit beat up in that picture."

Guilt suffused me. My best friend got fired on my account, and now he was concerned over my welfare.

"I ran into him, kind of. We exchanged unkind words…sort of. I called him what you generally call him and it came to blows, and…well…he took my picture. He said only his employees call him that and I said his employee was right about his temperament. Shit, Ren. I'm so sorry. I had no idea this would happen."

I heard heavy breathing for awhile, expecting Renji to explode. He didn't.

"Let's meet for drinks tonight. Your treat, asshole. And I'll expect you to help me update my resume."

**XDXDXD**

Hanatarou Yamada stuck his head into my office. "Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Kurosaki!" He flashed me a nervous smile. He was always nervous, a disaster in the making. It was a wonder he could function in his assistant position without really screwing up.

I walked to the reception area, putting on my best professional face. Kuchiki was already waiting with our guest. He turned to me.

"Mr. Shiffer of Black, White and Blue LLC couldn't make it; apparently he's ill with the flu. However, his partner cut his vacation short to step in for him." He turned to the tall, blue-haired man. "Mr. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, please allow me to introduce our account manager, Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki. He's been instructed to take good care of you and your needs.

I shook hands with Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, my professional, restrained smile meeting his full-out grin.

"I'm sure I will find Mr. Kurosaki's service most satisfactory."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hi Everyone! **_

_**This is so nerve-wracking. I am talking to people online on GoodReads, where Dreamspinner Press has a site. It's one of those "Meet the Author" events. Sometimes, there is a lot of activity, at other times there is a long pause. Like, long enough to do a whole kata. Speaking of which, GrimmIchi fans, I submitted "Breakfall" to a publisher today (DSP again). I'll keep you posted.**_

_I can't send you a URL to the "Meet the Author" chat, but I can send you a____**25% discount to all of my titles**__**, **__and anything under the kink/BDSM genre tab on Dreamspinner Press' site._

_**And now, the last chapter I'm allowed to post for you:**_

I shook Grimmjow Jeagerjacques' hand. It was warm and pleasant, yet his strong grip got so firm, I had to squeeze back in self-defense. I saw his eyebrow arch, grin still plastered to his face.

"If you'd care to follow me, Mr. Jeagerjacques." I extricated my hand. Only pride kept me from rubbing it better. I spun on my heel and preceded him to my office. Yamada trailed behind us, his big, brown eyes all shiny and wide and helpful. Usually I'd chase him away, but I figured with Yamada around as a witness, my new client was less likely to kill me.

Normally, these presentations were routine. Find out what they want, show them your plan, discuss a mutual course of action, see how much they want to spend. No problem, right? Yet the familiarity of this fairly routine process eluded me today. For one, I couldn't make eye contact. It was in my best interest to stay away from those bewitching, impossibly blue eyes. I felt Jeagerjacques brush against me as he settled into the client chair; his warm, exciting personal scent assaulted my senses and, suddenly, I forgot where I was.

_Shit. What am I doing, again?_

"Um, sorry…here we go," I tried to hum in a reassuring way, only to find my voice quaver the slightest bit. I shot a glare at the man who bore holes into me with his amused gaze. All of a sudden I had to get away from him – just for a bit. I needed to compose myself. Yamada raised his eyebrows, asking if I need any help. I dumped the content of my right trouser pocket on my desk; a familiar, silver flash drive appeared along with two pens and a packet of cinnamon gum.

"Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Water?" My voice felt a bit steadier than before.

"Coffee would be great. Black, three sugars," Jeagerjacques said.

I nodded at Yamada. "Please give Mr. Jeagerjacques a copy of the presentation, would you? I'll go get his coffee."

_Breathe. _

"You need to breathe," I kept telling myself. I'd inhale deep, and exhale very, very slowly, repeating the action over and over while I assembled the tray with our white, gold-rimmed client coffee cup on top of its dainty saucer and a small bowl of honey-roasted nuts.

Then I spilled the coffee and had to clean it up and start all over again, which is why I took so long getting back.

Yamada was walking down the hall.

"Oh there you are, I was getting worried, Mr. Kurosaki. You sure look like you need some help today. I got your laptop prepped and hooked up. You're ready to go!"

"Er…thank you, Hanatarou." I felt my stride lengthen in an effort to get there sooner and take control of the situation, Yamada's helpful demeanor filling me with a sense of foreboding.

**XDXDXD**

My shiny, black shoe pushed the door open as I maneuvered the coffee tray inside.

"Here you go, …" My voice died in my throat. My laptop was all prepped, alright. Hooked up to the projector, the silver flash drive was already in its USB port. My client sat stiff and motionless in the client chair, his eyes riveted to the projector screen. The sound was turned very low, but even so both he and I could hear the unmistakable sounds of pleasure from the man in the video. The eerie lighting showed him in stark, almost baroque light-and-shadow contrast; the inflated picture blurred the outlines somewhat but even so, there was no mistaking his identity.

I got in the way of the projector beam, depositing the coffee tray on my desk with haste, reaching to pull the stupid, treacherous flash drive out of my laptop.

"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"

The man on the screen ejaculated onto my pristine, white shirt.

I shot a distressed look at my guest. He stared back at me, motionless, his wide grin gone.

As fast as I could, I put my desk between us and ejected the flash drive from the system. My wallpaper came up: bigger than life and absolutely gorgeous, his angelic face in post-coital languor graced the projection screen.

"Sorry…" my voice was barely audible. "That was obviously the wrong presentation." Words spilled out of my mouth without the benefit of my brain regulating their content. I pocketed the flash drive and searched my other pocket. An identical device appeared in my hand. I plugged it in; the relaxed, almost monochromatic face on the projection screen was now partially obscured by a table of contents. I clicked on "WBB Proposal"; a slick, Power-Point presentation replaced the unspeakable scene from before.

"You got a hard copy?" I asked, instantly regretting my word choice. "I mean, a print-out." Heat crept up my neck, tomato-red, invading my face.

He looked at me, bereft of words.

Feeling moderately in charge once again, I picked up the blue-bound portfolio.

"All parts of the proposal are in here."

I couldn't say his name.

I just couldn't.

"It has a space for notes, if you want to take notes." Gods, my words got up and left. My customary eloquence disappeared. I just couldn't summon all those smooth, comforting phrases I've used for the last two years. I felt totally exposed and brand new, waiting for him to deliver his devastating strike.

His silence was unbearable.

My hand slid up my face to wipe the sweat off; I pressed against the tender flesh he had bruised so easily last night, and bit back a hiss of pain. Finally I turned the projector off and stood up and walked halfway around my desk. My butt leaned against it as I crossed my arms, staring into his shocked, pale face.

"Just…just say something."

He twitched.

"I know you're really mad and I don't blame you. I'm so sorry you had to see that." I didn't say I was sorry that I saw that, and I knew he took note of my careful phrasing.

Grimmjow Jeagerjacques rose from the client chair. He was taller than me and seemed a bit stronger and I was already well-familiar with the power of his punch. Cowering would do me little good and besides, I had a thing against cowering.

I stood up straight and looked him in the eye.

I waited.

It was his move.

**XDXDXD**

Large hands grasped my lapels, pulling me in the slightest bit as he peered into my face. His gaze was icy cold and without apparent interest. He looked over the damage he'd done me last night, emotionless.

"Should have hit you harder, punk."

"You still can."

"Nah…you ain't worth it." He pushed me away hard; there was no time to regain my balance as I fell against the wall with an awkward thud and slid to the floor.

I scrambled to my feet, alarmed to see his back in the doorway.

"Wait. Don't go. The presentation…" My voice had an edge of raw panic, and that must have caught his attention because he turned back toward me.

"Oh yeah. Your precious presentation. Good thing I have a hard-copy." He smirked at my apparent discomfort.

"I'm so sorry," I blurted out. "So sorry…for everything. Isn't there anything I can do to make up for it?"

I saw him take two steps back inside my office and close the door.

"I don't know," he said, his voice edged with that cold, seething anger. "I don't know what you're good at."

"Whatever you say."

He startled, then paused.

"What didya say, punk?"

"I'll…I'll do whatever you say. Just…don't tell my boss." I gazed at him with entreaty. "Please," I added, my voice a mere whisper. Here I was with the object of my desire, my wildest fantasies, and…he was seething with barely contained rage. Justifiably so.

"Anything?" His face took on an intrigued expression. "Like, do the advertising campaign for free?"

"Anything that's mine to give," I said. "I won't steal from my employer."

"Ah, there is honor among thieves," he snarled. "You won't bite the hand that feeds you; anyone else is fair game."

"No. Not anyone." I paused. "You aren't fair game anymore."

"Because?"

I blushed and looked away. Just at that moment, my cell phone went off in my pocket.

"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"

I froze, the blood draining from my face.

"What the fuck was that?" He asked, his rage toned down by a hint of confusion.

"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"

"Sorry…let me answer that." To his utter shock I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and declined the call, setting it on vibrate.

"Are you for fucking real?" He asked, coming closer to me. "What are you, some psycho stalker?"

I shook my head. "I…I didn't know you'd be home that night…" The oft-repeated word fell off my lips again: "Sorry…"

"I'll make you damn sorry. I'll give you one chance to convince me not to report you immediately."

I considered my options. There was the video; if I put it on YouTube, it might even go viral. That was a weapon of last resort, though, because this guy was hotter than July and I wanted to actually get to know him. Not just his place, not just his stuff and the contents of his safe – I suddenly felt I wanted to erase that awful, mortifying embarrassment I put him through, and there was only one way I could think of doing that.

_The presidential treatment._

"Please. Won't you sit down?"

He did. I approached him from behind, running my hands up his shoulders and into his odd, blue hair. It was gelled in place, but I didn't care if I messed him up. My one and only goal was to make him feel absolutely, positively fabulous, and the only thing I had to go on was the video I had. Considering what I already knew about what he found pleasurable, he might be attracted to men, and if so, I'd make sure he found my company as thrilling and as relaxing as possible.

My fingers rubbed his scalp in gentle circles, progressing outward, toward his ears.

"Relax," I whispered by his ear. He hesitated, then his shoulders loosened just the slightest bit.

"There…not so hard, is it?" I let my breath caress the shell of his ear and was gratified to hear him draw a deep inhale. My fingers progressed outward, massaging his scalp right behind his ears.

He leaned into my hands.

Surprised, I deposited a small kiss on the edge of his jaw.

"C'm ere," he growled, pulling me around. I complied, ready to go through with my penance.

"Kneel, punk."

First one knee, then the other hit the durable, industrial carpeting between his polished shoes. I looked him in the face.

"You know what to do," he said, a challenge in his eyes as though he was daring me to proceed.

My hands slid up his legs, my fingers ghosted over his knees and thighs. His eyes were on mine, as still as deep water. He didn't move a muscle, didn't flinch.

_Ahhh. A true challenge._

At that moment I felt a deep desire to hear those little sounds of pleasure again. My hands rose to his belt, undoing the smooth, silver buckle, unfastening the finely tailored trousers. The lush material caressed my hands and I shivered as a memory of his closet hit me.

_Soft fabric._

_Enticing scent._

_The hiss and pant of pleasure._

Memories flooded me and I felt my body respond. My lips felt dry – no wonder, they've been parted for quite a while now, soft little breaths making their way in and out. I licked them. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques tensed at the sight; I basked in the sight of those eyes darkening, his pupils dilating.

Tender fingers made their way to his silk boxer shorts, careful not to touch him as I freed his half-erect manhood. I let my head descend between his legs, exhaling my hot, moist breath, feeling him stir in anticipation. I looked up. His eyelids slid halfway shut as he watched me with his lush, pink lips slightly parted. I grinned.

"Kurosaki." His gravelly voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I felt his fingers slide into my mop of too-long hair, clenching into a fist. I thrilled to the feeling of his grasping hand and opened my mouth, my tongue circling his head. The fist in my hair tightened and I felt his legs next to me straighten and relax.

"Kurosaki!"

I moaned, barely hearing, lost in the sensation of his silky hardness, letting my head bob as I slid up and down his shaft.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, what is the meaning of this?"

Byakuya Kuchiki's raven head was stuck through the open door of my office, his chiseled, ivory face shocked, his hand still on the doorknob.

**XDXDXD**

I stood before Byakuya Kuchiki's desk. He leaned back in his black leather chair, his wide, gray eyes on my flushed face, an expression of disbelief still etched into his features. His pale gaze took in my disheveled hair, the red lips, the small bits of dust on the knees of my dark blue suit.

"Mr. Kurosaki. Words fail me. You've been in my employ for two years now." He paused, studying my sorry person for a while longer, not seeing what he was looking for.

"You have a lot of promise, however…your sense of judgment is sadly lacking. This prospective customer could have been one of our biggest clients. Your conduct…" He paused again and I jumped at my chance.

"Boss, I can explain…"

"Kurosaki." His lips thinned. "Your conduct was disastrously unprofessional, to say the least. You want to explain? Be my guest, but my mind is made up."

"I…I'm in love, boss."

His thin, elegant eyebrows rose. "It is my understanding that you've never met this man before."

"I've never met Mr. Shiffer before. Mr. Jeagerjacques and I are…well…our relationship, if you can even call it that, is complicated, and not always easy." That, at least, was the truth.

Kuchiki swiveled in his posh chair, staring out the window for a while.

"You may move your personal belongings out of your office today, Mr. Kurosaki. I will give you a two-weeks' severance pay, but don't expect glowing references. My recommendation will state that you are capable, talented and resourceful, yet sadly immature."

He stood and I knew it was over. Suddenly it occurred to me that he was beautiful in a way I never appreciated while he was still my boss. The midnight black tendrils escaped from his ponytail, framing his face with those devastating, high cheekbones and changeable, grey eyes and I could only imagine the toned frame underneath his office attire.

"What's wrong, Mr. Kurosaki?"

I sighed. "Thank you, . It's just…I was wondering, now that you fired me, why the hell didn't I fall for you instead."

To my surprise, his lips quirked upward in the slightest hint of a smile. "Because falling for your boss is never a good idea, Mr. Kurosaki." He paused before he exited his office, and looked me in the eyes, all serious now. "I wish you the best of luck."

**XDXDXD**

"The bad news is that this is the last round of drinks I can afford," I told Renji. "Kuchiki fired my ass."

"No way!" Renji's eyes widened, his tattooed eyebrows giving him a fierce appearance. "What for?"

"Because Shiffer from BW&B is sick today and your former boss came instead of him. I was supposed to give him a presentation…" My voice trailed off and I reached for my beer and took a good swig.

"Yeah? What happened, did he explode or something?"

"You won't believe me."

Renji looked at my miserable countenance, a sly grin spreading slowly across his face. "Try me, you moron."

"Kuchiki walked into my office just as I was…" I paused, hesitant to fill the expectant silence. "He walked in just as I was on my knees in front of Jeagerjacques, giving him a head."

"Fuck!" Renji's mouth was full of beer as I said what I was saying and that was a mistake on my part – I should have waited for him to swallow. His beer-spray covered my good blue suit and my Grimmjow-blue necktie and my formerly crisp monogrammed shirt.

Renji looked at me in outrage. "I know he swings both ways, but man…that asshole forced you to go down on him in your own office?"

I cast my eyes at the wooden surface, studying the scarred, round bar table.

"You don't have to put up with this shit, Ichigo, let alone be fired for it. I want you to go and…"

"Renji." I put up my hand, feeling morose and forlorn. "Renji, I offered."

Once again, I managed to say something spit-worthy without checking whether Renji's mouth was full of beer or not. Soaked and resigned, I reached for another bunch of napkins.

Renji watched me clean up, all apologetic. I shrugged. At this point, this was the least that could happen to me.

"So what's the good news?" He asked.

"The good news is, you can apply for my old job. Kuchiki is a pretty nice guy. He never yells, he gives precise instructions, he's pretty good-looking…" I sighed. I'd miss old Kuchiki.

"So what, you'll apply for my old job now, Ichi?" Renji asked, uncertain.

"No. I've thought about it, but no. It's…I want him for myself. As a lover, not as a boss."

"What will you do, then? Job hunt?"

"I'll manage." Renji was my best bud, but not even he knew of some of my eclectic skills.


End file.
